


Fear, Loss and Bourbon

by Cornerofmadness



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22637425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: All Gil wanted to do was mourn the loss of his Le Mans. He should have expected the late night call that interrupted his goodbyes.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38





	Fear, Loss and Bourbon

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Not mine, Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver owns it
> 
>  **Notes:** I wanted to do something funny for the loss of Gil’s beloved car. I got this instead.

XXX

Gil fumbled with his phone, his fingertips a bit numb from all the insanely expensive bourbon Jessica had gifted him with after he and the team had shown up to whisk her children off to the hospital and Watkins off to prison. He suspected her gift had been given more because he was there daily in the hospital as much as he could be with Malcolm. That and she had taken to drinking with him. As he saw her name on his phone at one in the morning a wave of panic welled up. Surely after falling three stories, playing sword catcher, and then nearly taking a bullet for a rich bastard who wouldn’t give a damn for the sacrifice, Malcolm couldn’t have found trouble again so fast, right?

“Jess?” he mumbled into the phone, not tired even though he should be. He was having a Malcolm sort of night. He was, however, decidedly drunk.

“Sorry to call so late, Gil, but this couldn’t wait.” Something sly hid in her tone, setting off alarm bells.

“Is something wrong, Jess? Is it Malcolm?” Gil hiked himself up on the couch and muted in the TV. He stared at the picture on the wall next to it: He and Jackie with twelve-year-old Malcolm outside a fancy hotel on Block Island. Jessica had taken everyone to their summer cottage in Newport, and then surprised them with a trip to the island. Jackie’s smile in that picture, her arms careless tossed around him and Malcolm, usually made him smile. Right now, iron bands wrapped his chest.

“It’s always Malcolm, isn’t it? Can you explain to me, Gil, how a trip to the airport didn’t end up at the airport?” The sweetness of her voice could have attracted hummingbirds but Gil knew her well enough to know she was furious.

Malcolm had texted him to warn him that Jessica now knew he hadn’t gone on his trip. Even he didn’t fully understand how Powell had failed to deliver Malcolm to his destination. No, scratch that, he knew damn well. Malcolm could be every bit as manipulative as his father but Gil pretended he didn’t notice that most days. Malcolm couldn’t bear up to that realization. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m betting it’s short one that goes Malcolm begged and you gave in because that’s what we do.” She laughed softly. 

“Sounds about right,” he replied, slurring a bit.

“You sound a little tipsy, Gil.” 

“I’ve been making a dent in this very fine bourbon you gave me,” he said, figuring after this conversation he’d need more of it. He twisted the glass around in his fingers.

“So, you took him to a crime scene on the way to the airport.”

“He promised he’d just take a peek and then shut up about going to the airport,” Gil replied. He’d been kicking himself for this for more than a day now. The truth was, if Malcolm hadn’t been there and recognized the sound of the Black Widow, they all might be dead. JT would have recognized it too but he hadn’t been in a position to move as fast as Malcolm. That realization aside, all he could see was Malcolm hurtling out of a third story window to what they all had assumed would be his death.

“And you believed that?” Jessica laughed loudly into the phone. 

“No, but I also knew the team wouldn’t be able to resist laughing at that god-awful suit.” Gil grinned.

“Gil! That suit was fabulous.”

“If he was heading for Fantasy Island, yes.”

In spite of herself, Jessica snorted. “You’re awful. All right, so now I have a clear idea how my son missed his plane. And that’s exactly how I expected it happened. What I’m confused about was what happened next? I finally sat down and watched the news shows I recorded.” 

Gil winced, knowing where this was going. He knew Jessica often DVRed her daughter’s reports. In theory she didn’t listen to them, but he doubted that. She was extraordinarily proud of her offspring even if she wasn’t a fan of what either of them did.

“Care to tell me why I just witnessed shaky cell phone footage sold to the network of Malcolm falling out of a three-story window and _no one told me_!” She packed all her fury into those last words.

“He didn’t tell you?” Gil sipped more bourbon, trying to feel bad about flinging Malcolm straight under the bus his mother was driving, but the brat should have been the one to tell his mother. Gil tipped a bit more booze into his glass.

“He most assuredly did not. How is he not dead, Gil? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“I don’t know why he didn’t tell you. Well, he wanted you to think he was in Tahiti.” He was just making it worse. He was too drunk for this. “As for how he’s not dead, believe me Jess, I thought he was going to be. I was standing there when he went into free fall. Turns out a rag top can act like a safety net.”

“He landed on your car?” That came out as a screech.

“The Le Mans gave its life for his.” He had to remember that. If Malcolm hadn’t landed on the rag top, if it hadn’t dispersed some of the energy of his momentum, he’d have died or had been seriously broken. He heard Jessica’s breathing rasping in and out as she struggled to get control of her emotions. “He saved everyone, Jess. We had no idea someone had hidden a landmine under our victim. Malcolm managed to get his hands on it before it blew.”

“And you left him in that room alone?”

Gil trained his vision back on the picture of him, Jackie and Malcolm. God, he wished she were here with him now. He could some comforting himself after watching Malcolm fall, after losing his beloved car. “He said he had a plan. I thought he meant he could hold it until the damn bomb squad got there. I’m not sure how that turned into let me shoot out the window and jump for it. I’m pretty sure at this point, he had no plan.”

“You think? Gil, how could you?”

“I feel bad enough as it is, Jessica. I thought he was dead. All I could think was I’m watching him die.” He shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut against the image of Malcolm hurtling out that window in his horrible suit. Gil had expected to see the thing dyed red in blood after Malcolm’s body exploded on impact. “I am grateful that the only thing to die was my car but…”

“You loved that car. I haven’t forgotten that.” Her voice softened with a hint of sympathy for him.

“I’m definitely in mourning for the car.” He shot back the rest of the bourbon and poured more. “But better the Le Mans than Malcolm.”

“Why did you even believe he had a plan?”

“Because your son is smart, mostly.” Oops, he was drunk. He should never have said that. 

He could picture the protective fury in her eyes as she growled out, “Mostly?”

“Well, he did pick up a phone call from his father in the middle of all this.” Gil still couldn’t believe that. Malcolm actually took one of his idiot hands off the pressure plate to answer his phone. Why he’d answer his father’s call was less mysterious. Malcolm’s attachments to Martin Whitly weren’t as broken as they needed to be. It had been like a knife straight between the ribs when Malcolm had blamed him for renewing that sick relationship. Gil would take the blame for bringing Malcolm back into this but he didn’t trust Malcolm to not drown in the vicious sea of his own brain if he hadn’t been allowed to profile. But he’d told Malcolm to stay away from his father. He should have known he wouldn’t.

“He did _what?_ ” Jessica nearly deafened him. “Gil!”

“I’m guessing he didn’t mention that but of course, he was trying to pretend he actually got on the plane.”

“Now I know you’re drunk. You’re not protecting him.”

“Because I’m worried about him, Jess.” He hadn’t told her about what Malcolm had said to him that day he threw him out of the precinct nor would he. That was between them and he’d forgiven Malcolm for those words. However, they were merely a symptom of a deeper problem and they still hurt like hell. “When Whitly called the station, I made Malcolm take the call with us all there.”

“Oh, I’m sure Martin loved that, having a big audience.”

“He did but Malcolm cut it short when he started talking to Detective Powell.”

“Of course, he did. He cares about her. She’s his best friend,” Jessica all but sang into the phone.

Gil grimaced. Were they? Mostly he told Powell to help out driving Malcolm around and she didn’t fuss about it much anymore. He knew Dani’s background and her damage. He knew she didn’t trust many or make many friends. Then again he’d seen the look in Malcolm’s eyes as he looked up at Dani as he held down the activated landmine. For a second the frantic flow of profiling had screeched to a halt and something so vulnerable had overtaken him, leaving him speechless even if it was only momentarily. Gil had been a bit too nervous about the landmine at the time to consider the reason behind it. It could be horrendous if Malcolm was losing himself to her or it could be glorious. Either way he’d had entirely too much bourbon to figure it out. “I had that same thought, Jess, right up until he convinced her to take him to Claremont to go talk to the Surgeon.”

She drew Gil’s name out like a curse. “Why can’t he be _done_ with that man?”

“I wish I knew. He was for a decade.”

“Until _you_ brought him back into this.”

Gil nearly dropped the phone at her unknowingly echoing her son. Of course, unlike Malcolm, Jessica had always blamed him, had stopped speaking to him for years. Hell, she hadn’t even come to Jackie’s funeral after all his wife had done to be a friend to a friendless, ostracized woman. It had hurt him more than he let her know and tonight was not the time to bring it up. She was afraid for her child and it wasn’t fair to unload his own pain on her. “I told him to stay away from Martin but you know your son.”

Jessica sighed. “He does whatever he wants.”

“For a decade he was away from that man, probably never second guessing his profiles but now he wants to run them past his father.” Gil scowled. Had he gone to Claremont because Gil hadn’t thought their Monte Cristo killer could be anyone but the father who had sneaked back to New York? Had he forced Malcolm back? Were those hateful words during his convalescence true?

“Does it help?”

“Sadly yes, it seems to. I still need to talk to Powell and be sure she’s okay after that experience.”

“She looked fine at the wedding. Oh, better than fine. She was gorgeous and Malcolm…Gil, he looked so happy even though there was a crazy woman _shooting_ at him.”

“I saw the video,” he replied. Some of the incidence, caught by wedding photographers and guests alike, had been aired. He’d watched Ainsley’s version. 

“I have to accept that this morbid job of his makes him happy.” She sighed but to his ear she sounded like she was in a better frame of mind.

“It does. Malcolm’s mind is a nest of vipers. I don’t have to tell you that,” he said, and she let out a strangled sob. “But this gives him peace as hard as that might be for you to understand. I saw your face as Ainsley made sure her brother got credit for that save. I think you’re starting to get how his job makes Malcolm feel.”

“I think so. I still want him to take a vacation. He was hurt so badly, Gil.”

“Trust me. I want him to do the same but I’m not sure either of us are going to get that wish.”

Jessica sighed more heavily this time. “Just keep him as safe as you can. He trusts you. Get the delightful Detective Powell to help. Maybe she can make him relax. I should have offered to send her with him.”

Gil shook his head chuckling. “I’m not sure it’s that sort of relationship, Jess.”

“It could be. Malcolm’s just terrible at it.”

“I’m not sure Dani is much better.”

“Next time my son nearly dies, could you please tell me so I don’t have a heart attack watching the news?”

“I’ll sit him down for a talk and see how he wants to handle being better about that.” If Malcolm was trying to protect his mother, Gil didn’t want to overstep that. 

“Thank you. You haven’t finished that entire bottle have you?”

“There’s plenty left.”

“Good. Save some for me. We can go car shopping for you,” she suggested brightly. “I’m sure the insurance isn’t going to be happy with this claim.”

“No, being a safety net for a jumper isn’t on the usual claims list. I was looking online for something to fall in love with,” he admitted.

“Is that the best way to find a car? I honestly don’t know.”

“If you’re looking for vintage muscle cars, yes it is,” he said. He wasn’t sure if he should encourage her. Knowing Jessica, she’d try to buy him a Shelby Cobra without a clue it wasn’t a car you drove every day. Actually, that was the trouble here, finding a muscle car that was good for every day without being such a theft magnet, he’d lose it the first time he parked it on the street. “Or auctions but those tend to go to people with much deeper pockets than I have.”

“Luckily you know someone who does.”

“I wouldn’t be comfortable with that.” He’d never been one to take her money. That was immaterial to him. He helped because it was the right thing to do. 

“You know the insurance won’t pay for the cost of replacement. I’ll just take it out of the account of the gentleman who squashed your car.”

Gil snorted. “We’ll talk about it over drinks.”

“It’s a date. I’ll let you get some sleep, Gil. Tomorrow I have to go make arrangements with massage therapists and a chiropractor because you know Malcolm’s back and neck have to be killing him and he won’t say a word.”

“It’s a good idea. He barely agreed to go to the hospital to be checked out. I think the only reason he did was so he could ditch that suit for one he had in his bags.”

“He looked elegant in that suit.”

“He looked like he should be saying 7-Up, never had it, never will.” Gil grinned. He hadn’t bagged on Malcolm because he knew the team would do it for him but now he rather regretted not piling on. 

“Still awful. Goodnight, Gil.”

“Sleep well, Jess. I’ll do my best to keep him safe.”

“You probably deserve sainthood for that.” She signed off with a laugh.

Gil finished off his bourbon thinking Jessica had a poor idea of how much work Malcolm actually was out in the field. It was a good thing he was worth it. That in mind, Gil opened his laptop and started browsing the vintage car sites.


End file.
